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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23594695">and he told me i was holy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/skvadern/pseuds/skvadern'>skvadern</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Body Worship, Canon-Typical Elias, Dom/sub, Infatuation, M/M, Manipulation, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: e040 Human Remains, Praise Kink, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Trans Elias Bouchard, martin blackwood: an adorable wee bear that needs to be protected, martin thinks some horrible things about his body</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:00:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,795</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23594695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/skvadern/pseuds/skvadern</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Elias’ hands tilt his chin up until he has no choice but to meet his gaze. “Martin,” he chides, “you’re a smart boy, keep up.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>After Jane Prentiss attacks the Institute, Martin has nowhere to go. Elias presents a solution.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>254</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Rusty Kink</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and he told me i was holy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this was inspired by <a href="https://rusty-kink.dreamwidth.org/1380.html?thread=398180#cmt398180">a kink meme prompt</a>, and ended up being only like 50% faithful to it. op if ur reading this im sorry and i rlly hope u like it anyway. i tried. beta'd by the incredible spiraldistortion, and with love to all the eye horror bastards who screamed ab this, esp dundee for The Bath Scene<br/>warning for some really negative, graphic descriptions of a fat person's body on martins part. also while this is not part of my s2 au, not!them got rekt by michael and sasha is still sasha. i havent mentioned it in the fic cause its not relevant to martin's journey<br/>title from hold me down by halsey, which i dont think fits the mood bt finding another title was a struggle</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once Jon’s done with him, nobody really needs Martin. Sasha had taken Tim home in a taxi, and while both she and Tim had invited him to come with, he… hadn’t. He knows they have something going on, something that’s been in the past - until they both almost died today. The way they’d been acting – pressing up against each other, Tim holding Sasha’s hand in his good one so tight his knuckles went white – Martin doesn’t think the past is going to remain the past much longer.</p><p>They’re his friends. He cares about them, he wants them to be happy, and he is <em> not </em> going to get in the way of something good coming out of this disaster.</p><p>Jon had dragged himself into a taxi soon after taking Martin’s statement. He’d actually said that Martin could come and spend the night on his sofa, though in a way that made it pretty clear he was doing it out of obligation. Martin had politely declined; he’s an idiot sometimes, sure, but he’s not <em> that </em> much of an idiot, and spending the night with his horribly unattainable crush is definitely not something a smart man signs up for.</p><p>So, he’s made decisions. And he stands by them, he does, but there’s still an issue. Quite a big one.</p><p>Document Storage may have avoided the worst of the worm damage, but it’s still covered in plaster dust and blood, and no-one’s going to let Martin sleep in the middle of a biohazard anyway. There’s his flat, of course, waiting for him dusty and empty, but he already knows he’s not going to go back there.</p><p>The worms are still squirming behind his eyes, over his skin in little phantom twitches. And of course, there’s the literal dead body he’d found in the tunnels, gaping at him as if furious to have been deserted for so long, down in the dark and the cold. He’s not going to be able to sleep in his flat, or even go back there – he just… can’t. Can’t bring those things into his home, can’t take the terror-stained memories that still rot in its corners.</p><p>Which leaves finding a hotel room, one that he can afford in Central London, one that will let him in the door covered in dust and blood. He should be googling for one now, or changing his clothes and using the showers by Artefact Storage to clean up a bit.</p><p>Instead, he’s. He’s sitting. Just outside the Archives, like he’s standing guard, staring blankly down at the wall opposite him. Blinking hard every time the brick starts to twitch and writhe beneath his exhausted gaze.</p><p>He’ll have to move eventually. In a moment, when he’s stronger. He’ll do something, he’ll-</p><p>“Martin,” someone calls, gentle-voiced and far away.</p><p>Turning his head takes so much effort. Martin doubts he’d be able to do it at all, if someone didn’t obviously need something from him.</p><p>Elias is leaning against the wall, just inside the entrance to the Archives. His face is set in deep, exhausted lines, but there’s a strange emotion tucked into its corners. Relief, maybe? Weirdly, Martin wants to say <em> triumph </em>, but he’s got to be mistaken.</p><p>“Hi, Elias,” he replies, and immediately winces at how dull his voice sounds. “Hi,” he repeats in a slightly more chipper tone, as if that’s going to help matters.</p><p>“Hello,” Elias answers him, and his face breaks into a smile. It’s… weird, that smile. A bit softer than is really reasonable for a boss to smile at his employee. Elias has given him smiles like that before, but never quite so… so openly <em> something </em>. Martin’s never known what to do with those smiles, and he certainly has no idea what to do about this one. </p><p>“Why are you still here?” Elias asks, when Martin doesn’t say anything else.</p><p>“Oh! Oh, I… I’m going to go. Get some of my things from Document Storage, if they’ll let me back in, then I’ll have a quick shower and go find a hotel room. In a minute.” Martin shuts his mouth before he can make more of a fool of himself.</p><p>Elias’ smile hasn’t changed – if anything, it’s even softer. “You could do that,” he replies. “But there’s no reason to spend all that money, not when I’ve got a perfectly good spare room.”</p><p>For a moment, all Martin can do is blink. He must have misheard, or, or something, because there is <em> no </em> way that just happened. Except that he’s pretty sure he didn’t, and Elias is looking at him expectantly.</p><p>“What?” Martin manages. Not his best effort, but in his defence, this is <em> wild </em>. </p><p>At least Elias isn’t glaring at him or sighing, or anything. “Stay with me tonight,” he says, moving down the corridor until he’s next to where Martin’s sitting. “I’ll be happy to have company after the day we’ve had, and I hate to think of you having to sort out a hotel room, not when you’re so worn out.”</p><p>Martin blinks hard at Elias’ solicitous tone, valiantly trying to stomp back the stupid rush of warmth. Elias <em> cares </em> about him – except, of course, he doesn’t. He’s just looking out for his functionally-homeless employee, like a decent boss. He stomps down even harder on the disgusting little bit of his brain that says this sounds like the start of a porno, and crushes the sick little swirl of discomfort - the sneaking suspicion that a boundary, somewhere, is being crossed.</p><p>Nothing like that is happening at all. He’s just being an idiot, like he was when he turned down two other offers of a place to spend the night. It would be really, <em> really </em> stupid to turn down a third.</p><p>“Okay,” he says, and the warm look Elias gives him makes Martin’s cheeks flame.</p><p>“Excellent,” Elias says, which emphatically does not help Martin’s stupid blush. He extends his hand, and Martin stares at it for an embarrassingly long moment. In his defence, it’s a gorgeous hand. Finally, he takes it and lets Elias help him to his feet. With a sudden burst of anxiety, he imagines Elias overbalancing with taking his weight, but he pulls Martin up easily.</p><p>“I need to get a bag,” Martin mutters, turning back towards the Archives. Waves of that awful, musty smell wafts into his nose, and he flinches hard.</p><p>A gentle hand on his arm keeps him steady. “Not to worry,” Elias tells him, “I took the liberty of grabbing a bag for you on my way out.”</p><p><em> That </em> makes Martin look at him sideways, but he doesn’t say anything. It would be so ungrateful, to make a fuss over Elias doing something this thoughtful for him.</p><p>He takes the offered rucksack, and follows down the corridor in Elias’ wake, blinking the fog and the faint squirming from the corners of his eyes. All he can hope for is that he doesn’t make too big a fool of himself. </p><p> </p><p>~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>Martin stares up at the gorgeous Kensington townhouse, aware that his mouth is hanging open. He’s walked through these streets dozens of times on his days off, exploring and imagining that he lived in one of these beautiful, romantic red-brick buildings – a fantasy, obviously, but it’s nice to dream sometimes. He’d never expected to actually go inside one.</p><p>“Come in, Martin,” Elias calls from just inside the open front door. Shaking his head, Martin follows him inside.</p><p>He toes off his dirty shoes as soon as he walks through the door; he’d rather die than get worm gunk and weird tunnel dirt on the elegant tiled floor. Everything is elegant, pretty, décor the epitome of taste and massive piles of money.</p><p>“You have a beautiful home,” he tells Elias, who’s already got his shoes off and is hanging his coat on the actual, honest-to-fuck antique coat-stand.</p><p>Elias looks back, favouring him with another weird smile. “Thank you. I’ve had years to get it just right.”</p><p>“I think it was time well spent,” Martin replies, and when the comment gets him another smile, he feels his cheeks heat.</p><p><em> Get it together </em> , he scolds himself. <em> This is your </em> boss.</p><p>Now that he’s out of the black cab they’d taken here, the exhaustion is reaching out to snare him, turning his legs leaden. But when he starts towards the open door to the sitting room, Elias touches his arm. Even through a layer of wool, Martin flinches. </p><p>“There’s a bathroom upstairs,” Elias tells him, when he has Martin’s attention, “second door on the right.”</p><p>For a second, Martin is confused, then he looks down at himself and remembers. “Oh, yeah, of course! Sorry!”</p><p>Instead of the flat look he’s half expecting, Elias smiles at him indulgently, and Martin realises suddenly what it is about his smiles that’s been throwing him. They reach his eyes. Normally, Elias’ expressions don’t do that.</p><p>“Sofas can be cleaned, Martin,” Elias says. “If you really want to sit down, please do. I simply think you’ll feel better when you’re freshened up.”</p><p>Something about the look Elias is giving him is prickling at Martin, and he can feel his cheeks staining red. He grabs the rucksack Elias packed for him and flees upstairs, before Elias spots it.</p><p>He finds the bathroom easily enough, though it takes a second before he can convince himself to enter. It’s <em> massive </em> , bigger than his sitting room, and everything gleams bright and clean. The tiles are wonderfully cool under his socks, and the shower - an actual separate shower to the bathtub that’s <em> also </em> there - is <em> ridiculous </em>. Despite the modernity of the bath, shower and sink, the décor still matches the rest of the house perfectly.</p><p>The bit of Martin’s brain that will always be a little boy in a council flat is currently hyperventilating.</p><p>He shrugs out of his clothes quickly, putting them in the sink instead of letting them dirty the floor. Unfortunately, the sink is in front of the big, ornately-framed mirror, but Martin manages to keep his eyes trained on the ground. Now isn’t the time to poke this particular bruise.</p><p>Thank goodness, the shower is out of sight of the mirror, and it’s just as good as it looks. The water beats down on him hard enough to work some of the stiffness out of his shoulders, and the showerhead set into the ceiling is massive enough that his whole body is deluged. The delicious warmth hammers the thoughts out his head, washes the inside of his skull clean even as it sluices the grime and sweat from his body.</p><p>He stays in there longer than he should, on someone else’s water bill, but the snide little voice in his head points out that Elias is good for it, and he’s too exhausted not to draw out the first good thing that’s happened today. Only when he realises Elias probably wants to shower too, and he might be left with no hot water, does he shut it off and finally get out, snagging a towel off the antique-looking radiator and hiding his body in its impossible softness. He pulls on his spare clothes quickly, and then ends up sitting on the wide rim of the bathtub for… a while.</p><p>A knock startles him out of contemplating the tiles. “Martin?” Elias calls, “are you alright in there?” There’s a hint of humour in his voice, and it makes Martin blush again.</p><p>“I’m fine!” he calls back. “Just – I’m fine!”</p><p>“Alright,” Elias says. “I’m going to order food, will you come out and choose something?”</p><p>“Okay,” Martin replies, wondering what sort of take-aways Kensington has local. “Just a moment!”</p><p>He takes a moment to check himself in the mirror, once he’s stuffed his clothes into a plastic binbag he snags from the bathroom cupboard, tidied them away in his rucksack and washed out the sink. His hair is a lost cause, untameable curls already gotten away from him, and his whole face is glowing red from the hot water and his embarrassment.</p><p>Sighing, Martin turns away before his eyes can skip down to his clothed body. He should really just stop looking in mirrors completely.</p><p>Downstairs, in his gorgeous sitting room, Elias has the menu for a very upmarket-looking Persian place resting on the coffee table and a laptop balanced on his knees. In contrast to his placid expression, he’s stabbing the keys sharply, like they’ve done something to offend him personally.</p><p>“Are you-“ Martin starts, and then cuts himself off, before realising that probably makes him sound even more stupid. “Are you alright? Only you seem, I don’t know, angry?” His voice tails off, and he can feel his cheeks flame, his stomach curdling with embarrassment. Stupid, stupid, what the hell kind of question is that?</p><p>Elias looks up at him, and for a moment his eyes slice through Martin, face blank and cool. Then he closes his eyes, sighing deeply and sagging, just a bit, into the settee.</p><p>“Sorry, Martin,” he says, voice still steady. “There’s rather a lot for me to do right now.” His face is cut in stark, tired lines – and of course it is, the poor man’s been chased around the building by monstrous worms, and God knows how much clean-up he’s got to organise now.</p><p>“Why don’t I make you some tea,” Martin says, “and we’ll order some food, and then get all this sorted.” He hurries off into the kitchen before he can lose his nerve, praying that Elias’ teabags and mugs are easy to find.</p><p>He does manage to find his way around Elias’ large, excellently-appointed kitchen, sorting out the teas almost on instinct. Elias takes his gratefully when he brings them in, but his calm expression splits into surprise when he takes a sip.</p><p>“How did you remember how I take it?” he asks, almost sharply.</p><p>Martin shrugs, fighting the urge to shift his feet like a naughty schoolkid. “I’ve gotten you a cup before. I have a good memory for drinks orders, I guess.”</p><p>“Yes,” Elias murmurs to himself. He studies Martin closely for an uncomfortable moment, before taking another neat sip of tea and snagging the takeaway menu.</p><p>Once Elias has called in their food order, Martin finds himself staring at the floor, again. Is it dissociation? Or is he just too worn down to function? Either way, he doesn’t like it one bit.</p><p>“Look,” he burst out, “can I do something? Anything, basically, please, I just…” Christ, he’ll vacuum if Elias wants.</p><p>Surprisingly, Elias actually seems to be taking him seriously. He studies Martin for a long second, then passes over his laptop. Martin takes it quickly, sitting down on one of the elegant armchairs.</p><p>Elias steeples his hands. “Most of the Institute will be reopened in a couple of weeks – the Archives exempted, of course, but I don’t think any of you are in a fit state to return to work for a while. But I’ve got plenty to concern myself with, with the police and the clean-up crews; I doubt I’ll have time for any of my meetings with people who aren’t Institute staff this week, and the ones next week will have to take place somewhere else. All meetings with Institute staff will of course have to be rescheduled to when the building reopens. I’d give this to Rosie, but her sister had an accident, and she had to take a couple of days.”</p><p>His smile at Martin looks apologetic on the surface, but now that Martin knows what he’s looking for, he can see that the apology doesn’t reach Elias’ eyes. That’s fine by Martin, honestly. If Elias wants to use him, he’s happy to be used.</p><p>“It’s okay,” he says. “Just give me your schedule and I’ll get it sorted.”</p><p>“Thank you, Martin,” Elias says, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder. “I knew I could rely on you.” Martin buries himself in the laptop before he can say something ridiculous in response to <em> that </em>.</p><p>Once he has Elias’ scarily meticulous calendar open, it’s easy. The email addresses of everyone he’s meeting in the next couple of weeks – or their personal secretaries, depending – are listed, and all Martin has to do is fire off quick, polite messages. Once he’s got the first one down, the rest are mostly copy-paste. It should by rights be nerve-wracking, but Martin’s good with admin stuff, always had been. He probably should have become a secretary, but he hadn’t been able to find anywhere that didn’t want at least A Levels before he’d found the Magnus Institute.</p><p>He needs to grab Elias for a few things, but mostly he can work out what to do from Elias’ email history. Either he or Rosie has colour-coded everything by importance, and the things that don’t matter get either cancelled or stuck in limbo. Important in-house meetings get pushed back a couple weeks – provisionally, at least, he doesn’t particularly want to shove everything in the same week that Elias has plenty of other things to do. Anything with people outside the Institute gets a provisional ‘my people will talk to your people, we’ll sort something out’ for now, just in case he’s stepping on anyone’s toes. Once he’s done that, he clears Elias’ calendar for the next two weeks, before sorting through the weeks after that, on the assumption that Elias will be very busy once the Institute reopens.</p><p>At some point, their food arrives, and Martin takes a quick break to wolf down his kofta kebabs and rice, before powering through his exhaustion and the faint, sick aftermath of terror. Elias drops by a few times during or between phone calls, passing Martin scribbled notes with dates and times, before striding off again. He’s apparently one of those people who paces while he talks on the phone, and Martin keeps having to catch himself from staring at the broad lines of Elias’ shoulders and back.</p><p>Finally, Martin pushes the laptop away with a deep sigh. He’s done all he can think to do – all that he <em> can </em> do really, without treading on Rosie’s toes. Elias hasn’t given him any more instructions, and he seems to be wrapping up for the night as well.</p><p>Now he’s not working, Martin can feel himself getting twitchier. Flickers of movement keep catching in the corners of his eyes – Jane Prentiss is dead, obviously, he’d stumbled over enough limp worm corpses to know that. There’s no reason to get so worked up over nothing.</p><p>Martin takes a deep breath and then it – catches. Sticks in his throat, and he abruptly realises that his heart rate is climbing. He’d thought he’d gotten his panic attacks done at the Institute, sobbing into Sasha’s jumper after she’d hauled him away from the hatch to the tunnels, but apparently not.</p><p>And in front of <em> Elias </em> , too. Shit, <em> shit </em>, he’s the worst, so useless and pathetic, no wonder Jon and Tim and Sasha almost died, he can’t do anything right, can’t even look in the mirror without losing it, he should have just stayed in the tunnels to rot-</p><p>Suddenly he is held, surrounded – a heavy weight on his thighs, a body pressing up against his chest, arms pulling his head out of his hands and tucking it into the warm crook of a neck. The scent of Elias’ cologne, faded but still good in the way that expensive colognes are, drags Martin back into reality by the scruff of his neck. Surrendering, he loses himself in the darkness and the soft shushing noises Elias croons into his hair, the long fingers he smoothes through his curls.</p><p>There’s no knowing how long Martin cries, but eventually he’s expelled enough of the hollow, cracked feeling that he can start counting breaths. It’s a struggle – every other exhalation wants to become a sob – but Elias keeps petting his hair, and that helps. Martin doesn’t let himself think about anything but the sensations, until he’s stopped shaking and Elias pulls away, keeping one arm around Martin and reaching for the coffee table with the other to grab the tissue box. Once he’s out of the comforting blindness of Elias’s shoulder, he can’t exactly hide from the fact that his boss has just cuddled him through a panic attack.</p><p>“Sorry!” his awful mouth babbles, “sorry, Elias, that was so unprofessional, I’m so sorry, I’ll-“</p><p>The cool fingers Elias lays over his mouth shut him right up. “Martin,” Elias says, soft but <em> very </em> firm, “you have nothing to apologise for.” He smiles suddenly. “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be sitting on your lap, would I?”</p><p>That’s all it takes for Martin’s brain to actually shut down. While he’s staring at Elias, wide-eyed and frantically trying to process, Elias takes a tissue and cleans his face. He’s efficient, but not ungentle, which just throws Martin off even more.</p><p>When Elias goes to wipe his nose, Martin finally snaps out of it for long enough to grab the tissue off him. Whatever the hell is going on, Elias doesn’t need to deal with <em> that </em>. He averts his head as he blows into the tissue, cheeks flaming. If only the sofa would turn into worms and eat him - no, it’s definitely too soon to think about worms again. </p><p>“Better?” Elias asks gently, and Martin boggles at him.</p><p>“What the hell is happening?” he asks, voice gone ridiculously high. He’s not surprised when Elias laughs at him – he’s pretty laughable, crumpled and snotty and blotchy.</p><p>He <em> is </em> surprised when Elias’ cool hands cup his cheeks, thumbs soothing the stinging skin under his eyes. “What’s happening, Martin, is I want to make you feel better,” Elias replies, and all Martin can do is gape at him.</p><p>This is… impossible. This does not happen. Forget the worms, and the monsters, and the rotting corpse of the last archivist abandoned in the hidden tunnels under his workplace, <em> this </em> is impossible. There is no reality in which it’s reasonable for Martin’s ruinously sexy employer to climb into his lap, to look at him with that frankly <em> avaricious </em> gleam in his pale eyes. </p><p>“That didn’t actually make me less confused,” he replies shakily.</p><p>Elias’ hands tilt his chin up until he has no choice but to meet his gaze. “Martin,” he chides, “you’re a smart boy, keep up.”</p><p><em> Boy </em> . Shit, Martin’s in <em> such </em> trouble. “I-“ he gets out, sure that his cheeks must be burning holes in Elias’ hands.</p><p>Whatever the hell he was planning on saying, he loses it entirely when Elias leans in further, until his face is so close that Martin can pick out the faint stubble beginning to regrow on his jaw. He loses everything else when Elias kisses him.</p><p>Soft, cool lips on his, tender and teasing, drawing away when Martin gasps and then diving back in. A quick, flickering tongue that traces over his bottom lip, and broad hands that take control of where his head sags uselessly on top of his spine, tilting it where Elias wants it to be.</p><p>“Beautiful,” Elias praises as he draws back, and it knocks Martin as breathless as the kiss did. “You’re so responsive, already, and we haven’t even gotten to the interesting parts yet.”</p><p>“Wh- what interesting parts?” Martin manages. Stupid, there’s only really one thing Elias could be alluding to, but Martin’s sense of reality isn’t ready to roll over and die just yet.</p><p>Elias gives him a considering look, one hand caressing Martin’s curls off his forehead. The other settles at Martin’s side, slipping beneath his cardigan, and the light pressure through the thin cotton of his t-shirt is insanely distracting.</p><p>At least, Elias seems to come to a decision. “I want to strip you naked, lovely boy,” he murmurs, as casually as if they were still talking about his schedule, “and see every part of you laid out and exposed for me. I want to touch every bare inch of that soft, blushing skin, and then I want you to fuck me until I <em> scream </em>.” A sudden flash of toothy smile. “I think it would be excellent stress relief for the both of us.”</p><p>Martin just… stares. What the hell else is he meant to do?</p><p>“Oh dear,” Elias says, solicitous and laughing. “Did I break you, sweetheart? I didn’t mean to, but in my defence, you’re adorable when you blush.”</p><p>Martin glares, probably in self-defence more than anything else. “Can you stop <em> saying </em> things like that?” he asks, voice painfully high.</p><p>Elias smiles like a cat. “Do you want me to? Really, do you?” When Martin doesn’t say anything, he slips his hand under Martin’s shirt and kisses his gasp right out of his mouth. When Elias releases him again, Martin is panting.</p><p>“Wouldn’t it be nice,” Elias breathes, still achingly close to his lips, “to let me appreciate you the way you deserve?”</p><p>Martin isn’t so sure about <em> deserve </em>, but God, it’d be nice to stop thinking for a bit. And Elias is still giving him that soft, intense look, setting his nerves prickling and his brain wonderfully fuzzy. Dazed and tentative, he nods once, and Elias’ answering grin makes him shudder.</p><p>“Excellent,” he purrs, and Martin is definitely fucked.</p><p> </p><p>~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>Elias’ bedroom is just as well-decorated as his sitting room and bathroom, maybe even more lavish. Not the sort of room Martin had ever thought he’d end up in, except in one of his more ridiculous daydreams, lit by the same soft golden lamplight that shines from Elias’ bedside table. The only thing that stops him feeling ridiculously self-conscious is Elias’ hand, still curled around his wrist. The touch keeps Martin from bolting, but only just. With gentle, guiding pressure, Elias leads him further into the room, and brings him to a halt in front of –</p><p>A mirror. A gorgeous, gilt-framed full-length mirror, hung on the wall.</p><p>Now Martin <em> really </em> wants to run.</p><p>“Clothes off, Martin,” Elias orders, and Martin hesitates.</p><p>It’s not that he thinks Elias was lying, about being into him. Why would Elias lie about that, and then drag him up to his bedroom? Apart from humiliating him, obviously, but Martin’s really trying not to give the paranoid little piece of himself that remembers being the kid other children invited to parties for a joke, a voice in this situation. So obviously, Occam’s razor, Elias is telling the truth about wanting to see him naked.</p><p>It’s just… the mirror. The soft but still definitely bright lighting. The intensity of Elias’ stare, laying Martin bare and defenceless before him. </p><p>Martin knows what he looks like. However much he might dislike his body clothed, it’s nothing to how much he dislikes it naked. Will Elias still want him, when he sees?</p><p>“I-“ he starts – God knows what he’s going to say, something that will get him out of here and call everything off so he can hide in the spare bedroom until the awful knot in his gut goes away – then suddenly, there’s a hand over his mouth.</p><p>“Please,” Elias says, “whatever you’re going to try and tell me, don’t. I’m not going to change my mind.” He moves his hand to cup Martin’s face; when was the last time someone did that? “I said I wanted to see you, didn’t I?”</p><p>Helplessly, Martin nods.</p><p>“Alright,” Elias replies gently. “Then let’s have no more of this. Clothes off, sweet boy.” He lets his hand trail from Martin’s face, down his chest. When he gets to Martin’s hand he takes it in his, guides it to the hem of his cardigan.</p><p>Martin takes the hint and shrugs the cardigan off, letting it fall to the floor. He feels hideously exposed in just his t-shirt, even loose-fitting as it is. It doesn’t help that Elias’ eyes haven’t gotten less intent.</p><p>Elias takes both Martin’s hands in his, brushes his arms gently over Martin’s forearms, ruffling the hairs. Martin winces when Elias passes his elbows – there’s muscle on his upper arms, sure, but plenty of fat as well. Still, Elias seems perfectly happy sinking his fingers into the softness, caressing him ever so gently.</p><p>It’s embarrassing, how much that one touch is affecting him. Just like on Elias’ sofa earlier, he can’t get enough skin contact. Between Tim and Sasha and their concern for his well-being, he hadn’t thought he was touch-starved – is probably less touch-starved than he’s ever been in his life – but here he is, panting after only a snog and someone feeling up his arms.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he manages, “I don’t know why-“</p><p>Elias cuts him off. “You almost died, Martin. Several times, I’m sure. It’s not strange that you’re so desperate for human contact after all of that.”</p><p>“Is that all this is then?” Martin asks plaintively. “Me working off my adrenaline rush?”</p><p>“If it is,” Elias says, “then I’m just happy I get to be involved.”</p><p>Martin just stares. “What the hell am I meant to say to that?” he bursts out, and Elias chuckles.</p><p>“You don’t have to say anything, so long as you keep undressing,” he replies slyly, and Martin takes the hint.</p><p>Taking off his t-shirt feels like stripping off a layer of skin, and he can’t bear to look at Elias while he does it. He closes his eyes, even though it sends him electric with hypersensitivity, every nerve straining like he can somehow feel Elias’ presence in the air.</p><p>For long moments, there’s nothing but the phantom burn of Elias’ gaze, and Martin has to fight hard to stay still. When a hand lands on his chest, he flinches so hard it’s basically a jump. He hears a little huff of laughter from in front of him and somehow manages to blush <em> worse </em>.</p><p>“Shhh,” Elias murmurs, “you’re letting me, remember?” Warm fingers curl into his chest hair, tugging at it gently, and Martin sways slightly towards Elias, who huffs another gentle laugh and tugs again, slightly harder. Martin <em> shudders </em>, a full body thing, and Elias’s laugh is louder, delighted.</p><p>Embarrassingly, Martin flinches again when Elias’ other hand comes up to rest on his waist, smoothing over the skin. There’s nothing tentative about his touches, but there is something that Martin can’t quantify – like Elias is taking his time, really concentrating on Martin’s body under his hands.</p><p>“Look at you,” Elias whispers, voice resonant and heavy. “All bare for me – well, not <em> all </em>, not yet.” He rubs a thumb over Martin’s jeans, which have been getting more and more uncomfortable, before pulling his hands away to play with Martin’s chest hair again.</p><p>Taking the hint, Martin reaches down. His hands shake as he pops his button and unzips his fly, shoving his jeans down as fast as he can. He’s just grateful he changed into a decent pair of boxers after his shower.</p><p>Elias helps work his jeans down his thighs, before honest to God sinking to his knees to take Martin’s socks off. Martin raises and lowers his legs as directed, so dazed that he almost falls on his arse. He’s never felt quite so exposed, and he’d never known feeling exposed could be so <em> good </em>.</p><p>As if he’s moving through water, he reaches for his boxers. He means to yank them off quickly, get it over with, but Elias’ hands cover his.</p><p>“Slowly,” he tells Martin, “I want to savour this, darling.”</p><p>Valiantly fighting his weakening knees, Martin lets Elias guide him to ease his pants down. He’s not fully hard yet, but his cock is flushed and full and beginning to rise. Elias just fucking <em> looks </em> at it, his smile almost viciously satisfied.</p><p>When he leans in, Martin’s heart skips a beat, and before he’s recovered from that, Elias sinks his teeth into the softness of Martin’s thigh. Martin yelps, high and shocked, and his cock actually <em> twitches </em>. When Elias pulls away, swiping his tongue over the inflamed skin, he gives Martin such a look, fond and burning all at once.</p><p>Elias rises to his feet in a single graceful motion, tugging Martin’s suddenly limp body into his. Martin closes his eyes and buries his head in Elias’ shoulder, as Elias takes the opportunity to kiss along his neck. The brush of Elias’ fine clothes against Martin’s naked skin makes him shudder, every movement amplifying the shocks skidding across every exposed, vulnerable inch of naked skin.</p><p>Then he’s being turned, and for a moment that’s fine, until he puts two and two together and realises what he’s being turned towards. Then it’s not fine at all, cause that’s where the mirror is, and - no. Just no.</p><p>“Open your eyes, Martin,” Elias tells him, and Martin shakes his head. No, God no, he can’t do this. There’s a reason he avoids looking in mirrors, especially when he’s naked.</p><p>Elias moves behind him, the material of his shirt rubbing softly against Martin’s bare back. His arms fit around him perfectly, grounding Martin in his shaking skin.</p><p>“I want you to see what I see,” Elias tells him. “I want to watch you see it.”</p><p><em> Are you a voyeur, by any chance? </em> is what Martin would say, if he was in any way brave. As it is, he just shivers, shaking his head again.</p><p>A soft kiss comes down on the side of his face, and Martin can feel the warmth of Elias’ skin on his cheek, they’re that close. “Come on, sweet thing,” he murmurs. “You want to be good for me, don’t you?”</p><p>Shit. Those are <em> definitely </em> the magic words. Wincing, Martin opens his eyes.</p><p>“Good boy,” Elias praises. “There we go.”</p><p>Martin wants to tell him that whatever ideas Elias has about showing him <em> what he sees </em>, it’s not going to work like that. His gaze is already flickering to all the weird bits of fat, the spill of podge above his kneecaps, the bulge of his chest – god, moobs, he might as well call them what they are. He looks disgusting, pot-bellied and flabby, hairy as an ape; a laughing-stock. Whatever arousal he’d felt with Elias in his lap, praising him and whispering nice things in his ear, drains away to leave nothing but sick dregs.</p><p>He feels himself tear up, and it only makes him hate himself more. Pathetic, <em> weak </em>.</p><p>“No,” Elias sighs, and Martin wants to <em> scream </em>. “This won’t do at all.”</p><p>And then it’s – something happens. Martin has no idea how to describe it; it’s as if someone’s set up one of those old-fashioned slide projectors behind his eyes, and has just clicked a filter into place. He’s still looking at himself, but the him he sees is emphatically <em> not </em> whoever he was just looking at.</p><p>This man is gilded in the lamplight, the glow picking out the red in his curls and making the flush on his face and chest look rouged. His shoulders are broad enough to carry his strong frame, layers of natural muscle giving him a solid, masculine presence, but the softness padding him out, making him look gentle, plush. There’s a gentle gravity to his body, rolls of fat and muscle that indicate strength, power; all loosened and pliant before Elias’ hungry gaze. The curling hair scattered over his ivory skin gleams copper, his skin painted with light and shadow until he looks like a painting, displayed for Elias’ viewing pleasure.</p><p> No part of him is delicate, and yet the wideness of his eyes, the nervous curl of his fingers as he stares in abashed wonder, give the impression of delicacy, beauty. The way his chest heaves with some swelling, unnameable emotion as he stares at this vision, this beautiful man that couldn’t possibly be him – it makes him look vulnerable, <em> sweet </em>.</p><p>“There now,” Elias sighs. “You see it, don’t you?”</p><p>“Yes,” Martin breathes, and the Elias in the mirror smiles, wide and smug and breath-taking. In the mirror, Martin watches Elias’ hands pet over him,</p><p>He thinks the thing he was struggling to put a name to might be something like <em> reverence </em>.</p><p>That sick self-hatred is evaporating, slowly but surely; it can’t stand in the face of whatever alchemy Elias’ mirror has wrought on his brain. In its place wells a strange, lovely warmth. It feels a little like being wine-drunk, even though he hasn’t touched a drop of anything. His discomfort falls away, his mind filling with Elias’ hands on his sides and their slow caresses.</p><p>He meets Elias’ eyes in the mirror, where they shine out from above his shoulder, and the warmth twists itself into <em> heat </em>. He’s already flushed all over, his breath starting to quicken in time with his heartbeat, and he can feel his cock becoming heavier against his thigh.</p><p>One of Elias’ hands trails down to his belly and further, dipping between his legs to curl around him. Even dry-palmed, it still feels good – Elias doesn’t try anything, just cradles him in warmth and pressure. Martin feels his eyes flutter shut, and winces a little – Elias <em> definitely </em> saw that.</p><p>“Good,” Elias tells him, dipping his head to press a lingering kiss to his shoulder. “Very good, Martin,” he whispers into his skin, and when Martin dazedly opens his eyes, Elias’ gaze scorches into him once more. Something about the way Elias is holding himself, head bent and eyes up, puts Martin suddenly in mind of a nature documentary he’d watched a few weeks ago; a lion, stooping over its kill and staring up at the camera.</p><p>The comparison feels incredibly right. The way Elias is looking at him, he’s certain the man wants to devour him.</p><p>“This can’t be doing much for you,” Martin says. He needs to say <em> something </em>, break the tension somehow.</p><p>Elias’ smile is just as wide and satisfied as he imagines a well-fed lion’s would be. “Do you know how long I’ve watched you, Martin?” he says. “In those huge woolly jumpers you insist on, so diligent and gentle, trying so hard to please, to do a good job. And you’re so good at it, aren’t you? So good at giving people what they want.” He hums to himself, one hand stroking possessively over Martin’s belly, while the other starts to work gently on his cock, barely pressing at all. ”You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do exactly this, to strip you bare and look my fill.”</p><p>Another kiss to his shoulder, this one with a scrape of teeth that makes Martin quiver. “I know this is hard for you,” Elias continues, “but you’re doing it anyway. For me, because I asked you to.” Another kiss, then another, then another. “Such a good boy, letting me have what I want from you.”</p><p>Martin feels like he’s <em> flying </em> – there’s so much, and it feels so good, how can he possibly process it all at once? His reflection stares wide-eyed back at him as he leans back into Elias, who takes his weight with ease, continuing to scatter kisses along Martin’s shoulder and neck.</p><p>Soon he’s fully erect, cock bobbing flushed and needy against his belly. Elias is still stroking him so gently, almost petting him, and when Martin starts to leak a little precome, Elias spreads it across his cockhead. The slickness makes Martin whine a little, too out of it to keep the sound in, and Elias lets out a contented hum.</p><p>“What a beautiful little noise,” he murmurs. “Are you loud in bed, Martin?”</p><p>“I-“ Martin stumbles over the words, his tongue thick in his mouth. “A, a bit? A bit too much, really, I can tone it down-“</p><p>“Don’t you dare,” Elias orders, and Martin feels his spine straighten with the weight in that voice. The hand on his belly slides up to his chest, and Martin can’t help a shaky little whimper when Elias pinches his nipple. “I want to hear you, sweet thing. You’ll let me, yes?”</p><p>Suddenly frantic, Martin nods, and he gets a soft neck-kiss and a gentle thumb rubbing over his nipple as a reward. He’ll be good, of course he will. He wants to please Elias more than he wants to breathe, so what’s a little humiliation?</p><p>“I think I’d like you to fuck me, now,” Elias breathes into his ear, circling round to Martin’s front and guiding Martin’s hand down to his waistband. As if he’s flipped a switch, Martin’s whole body becomes a live wire. He must be glowing, he’s sure he is.</p><p>“Oh-okay! Do you, ah, do you have lube?” he asks, trying desperately not to babble.</p><p>“That won’t be necessary, sweet boy,” Elias says. He guides Martin’s hand into his trousers – when did he undo those? – and then into what definitely feels like silk pants. Martin trails his fingers through soft, trimmed hair and down to -</p><p>“Oh,” he whispers in shock.</p><p>“Is this a problem?” Elias asks. There’s something oddly careful in his face, like he’s braced for a rejection.</p><p>“Nothing about you is a problem,” Martin says immediately, tripping over himself to make that clear.</p><p>Elias throws his head back and <em> laughs </em> at that, long and loud. Before Martin can panic, he reels him in and kisses him, just as long. “Sorry,” he says against Martin’s lips when he releases him, “I’m not mocking you.”</p><p>Martin is pretty sure that Elias <em> is </em> in fact mocking him, but honestly, he’s not sure how much he cares right now. He can’t get over how <em> wet </em> Elias is – he’ll admit, he doesn’t have the most experience with this equipment, but he’s sure all that slickness wasn’t just <em> there </em>. Without letting himself think too much about it, he slips a careful hand back down and slides it gently through the wetness.</p><p>“You did that to me,” Elias tells him, eyes gleaming like precious stones. “This is how much I want you, Martin.”</p><p>And that… Martin can’t deal with that. He doesn’t have it in him to process that. All he can do is turn his head and kiss Elias, deep and frantic, resting his palm against Elias’s cock. It’s actually gotten hard, which Martin had no idea could happen. Elias moves his hips gently, rubbing himself against Martin’s hand with a deep, satisfied hum.</p><p>“Good, sweet boy,” he says, voice so soft, sliding into Martin’s ear like water. “You’re going to make me feel wonderful, aren’t you? I know you are.” He pushes one more time into Martin’s hand before tugging it away, taking him by his shoulders and walking him backwards. Martin can’t take his eyes off him, broad shoulders and neat muscles, especially not when Elias pushes him down to sit on the bed and starts unbuttoning his shirt.</p><p>Martin stares, mouth going dry. Elias is impossibly handsome, his vest clinging to the slight softness of his belly, the deep neckline exposing sparse chest hair that glints gold and silver in the lamplight. In a daze, he reaches out, not quite sure if this strange, electrifying thing they’re doing has a rule against that. If there are rules, would Elias tell him, or just wait for him to break one? No that’s insane, and massively rude; Elias would <em> never. </em></p><p>And he doesn’t now, just smiles indulgently at Martin and steps closer, letting Martin slip his hands under his vest to touch the impossibly soft skin of his hips and waist. Just feeling Elias’ bare skin under his hands shocks a gasp out of Martin, and Elias grins. He brushes a thumb gently over Martin’s parted lips, smile widening as Martin closes his lips lightly around it.</p><p>“Beautiful,” he tells Martin. “So easy for me.” That makes Martin drop his eyes, a little spike of shame piercing the soft, heady veil of arousal. Elias quickly raises a hand to cradle Martin’s face, so tender that Martin wants to cry. “That’s not a bad thing,” he says, “the way you take direction is lovely.”</p><p>He slides his thumb a little way into Martin’s mouth, and out again. Fucking his mouth so, so gently, and Martin can’t stop himself sucking on it, flicking his tongue over the tip.</p><p>Elias huffs out an amused laugh “Do you want to suck me off, hmm? Show me how talented that pink little mouth is, how much you want me to feel good?”</p><p>Martin nods frantically. He’s sure Elias can feel his mouth watering; he presses down on Martin’s tongue, before pulling back a little to paint wetness over Martin’s lips.</p><p>“So eager to please,” Elias praises. “But that’s not what I want right now. I don’t want to be <em> too </em> relaxed when I take that gorgeous cock – I want it to split me open properly.” He grins when Martin whines, face probably hot enough to burn.</p><p>Elias pulls his vest over his head, letting it drop to the floor with his shirt, and Martin can’t stop himself from staring. Miles of silky-looking pale skin, lean muscles tucked beneath it, a little plush padding at his belly. The body of a man who cares how he looks, who takes care of himself. The old, pale scars on the sides of his chest shine in the lamplight.</p><p>Why the hell would someone who looks like <em> this </em> want <em> Martin </em>, of all people?</p><p>As if he can read Martin’s mind, Elias takes his face in gentle hands again, tilting his chin up. “Look at you, sitting so patiently for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll be with you in a moment, sweet thing – allow me my indulgences.”</p><p>Martin nods, dry mouthed. Slowly, he reaches out to rest his hands on Elias’ skin. It’s surprisingly cool, but then everyone says Martin’s basically a human radiator. He strokes his thumbs over Elias’ hips in a daze, before letting his hands drift down to the waistband of his tailored trousers. Elias goes back to feeding his thumb into Martin’s mouth, smiling indulgently as Martin shyly pushes his trousers down, baring slender thighs that Martin immediately aches to put his head between.</p><p>“Good boy,” Elias sighs, eyes fixed like a snake on Martin’s answering shiver, and Martin pushes his boxers down. The sight of Elias’ hard, red cock peeking out from soft-looking blond curls makes Martin gasp, the urge to lean in and take it in his mouth overwhelming. But Elias said he had other plans – plans Martin can’t even think about too much without his head spinning – and Martin wants so badly to do as he’s told right now.</p><p>When Elias pushes him further up the bed and onto his back, Martin goes easily, head still spinning. The coolness of the sheets explodes across his heated skin, and he groans as Elias follows him down, straddling his hips and ranging over him, planting his arms by Martin’s head.  Martin feels impossibly pinned; Elias might not be resting on his chest, but just having him there, above Martin, makes him feel like he’s being pushed right through the mattress.</p><p>That sweet, trapped feeling only gets stronger when Elias closes his teeth over the meat of his shoulder and <em> bites </em>. The starburst of pain shocks a moan out of him, and he  swears Elias digs his teeth in harder in response.</p><p>All Martin can do is tangle his hands in the sheets and hold on for dear life, as Elias sucks at the fragile skin of his neck and shoulders. Martin’s always bruised easily, has written plenty of not-very-good poetry about just how easily he bruises, and Elias is taking full advantage of that. Each love-bite is a vivid, aching flare of heat, a shock straight to his groin, and Martin can feel himself dripping onto his stomach when Elias is finally satisfied.</p><p>For a moment, Elias just studies him, a red flush high on his cheekbones. Then he lowers his hips and Martin stops breathing. The <em> heat </em> of him, wet and impossibly soft where his cunt brushes Martin’s cock – there aren’t words for how good it feels. Elias lines up and circles his hips luxuriously, rubbing his cock against Martin’s. Like Martin’s a pillow, or a sybian – like his body’s a toy for Elias to get off with.</p><p>“Oh,” Elias sighs, his head hanging for a moment, “oh, that feels lovely.” He smiles down at Martin, eyes no less intent for the softening of his face. “I’m starting to wonder why I resisted as long as I did.”</p><p>It’s crazy; Martin is lying here with Elias literally grinding on his cock, and yet the verbal reminder that Elias actually <em> wants </em> him still feels like a kick to the chest. He whines, high and shaky, and Elias leans down to kiss the noises out of his mouth.</p><p>Forcing himself to think – everything is going so <em> fast </em>, and he feels in control of so little of it – Martin blurts “Do we need, need a condom?”</p><p>“There’s no danger of pregnancy,” Elias replies, guiding one of Martin’s hands to the faint, silvery scar above his groin. “And if we’re both clean, I don’t see a reason not to indulge myself.” Martin gasps a little at his words, and busies himself with stroking over Elias’ hips again, head spinning at being able to touch someone so powerful, so wonderful.</p><p>Then Elias raises his hips, reaches down to grasp Martin’s cock – Martin whimpers pathetically – and rests the head against his entrance. The impossibly soft, slick heat pressing against him makes Martin moan far too loudly, and Elias’ face splits into a sharp triumphant grin.</p><p>“Lovely,” he says again. “Utterly lovely, and all mine.” Face bright with anticipation, he sinks down.</p><p><em> Tight </em>. Impossibly tight, pressing around him as he slides into place inside Elias. Martin’s vision is swimming, which is just as well because Elias’ deep, satisfied groan is probably paired with an expression that would make Martin embarrass himself right now.</p><p>Elias takes his time, working himself down Martin’s cock with slow rolls of his hips. “You feel <em> huge </em> inside me,” he tells Martin, his voice strained. “Christ, it’s like you’re splitting me open.” He bends, shifting his weight onto the arms he cages Martin’s head with again, until he’s crouched over Martin once more. “Absolutely perfect, oh, I knew you would be.”</p><p>Martin reaches up to caress Elias’ cheek, heated now beneath his clumsy fingers. Elias butts into the touch like a cat, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the base of Martin’s thumb. His eyes are hot and dark where they meet Martin’s, and full of something that scares him, a little bit. It’s hungry, monstrously hungry.</p><p>Sasha had once joked that no-one gets to the top of their field without being something of a monster. “Especially not <em> this </em> field,” she’d said, gesturing in the vague direction of Artefact Storage. At least, he’d thought she was joking.</p><p>Alarm bells ring in Martin’s head as he holds Elias’ gaze, the other man’s lips still resting against his palm. Maybe if he were thinking clearly, he’d call this off. He definitely <em> should </em>.</p><p>Instead he tugs Elias’ face down and kisses him, messy and desperate.</p><p>Elias laughs into his mouth, something like relief in the sound, something like victory. His hands go to Martin’s wrists as he drinks all the high-pitched little noises out of Martin’s mouth, and he eases them to the sides of Martin’s head. When his weight comes down on them, Martin whimpers.</p><p>He could probably pull away. Elias is strong, but so is Martin, he could get free if he wanted to.</p><p>He doesn’t want to, not one bit.</p><p>When Elias has him pinned to his satisfaction, he rears back a little, sighing deeply as he seats himself further on Martin’s cock. The rocking motion shocks another whine out of Martin, and then Elias starts moving <em> properly </em> and Martin’s whines turn into sobs.</p><p>“Such lovely noises,” Elias growls, eyes still burning over Martin’s skin, as if he’s a feast laid out for Elias to gorge himself on. The next circle of Elias’ hips is apparently aimed just right, because Elias’ eyes flutter for a moment, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He repeats the motion immediately.</p><p>Every shift and clench sends Martin deeper into that sweet, quiet headspace, until all he can do is stare up at Elias, muscles flexing and hips rolling as he uses Martin to chase his pleasure. He impales himself again and again, grinding Martin’s cock up against his g-spot, hands still solid on Martin’s wrists. Holding him there, in the moment, where he doesn’t have to do anything but make Elias feel good.</p><p>Speaking of, Elias probably wants something against his cock. Martin tries to pull his hand free – not yanking, just a little tug – but he relaxes with a whine when Elias tightens his grip, puts more weight on his wrist.</p><p>“Something the matter, pet?” Elias asks, and Martin bites his lip.</p><p>“I, I just- I could touch you,” he whispers.</p><p>Elias dips to kiss him, hard and messy. “Such a good boy,” he croons. “I wonder, are you thinking about anything right now, except making me feel good?” When Martin shakes his head, he gets another hard kiss, long enough to make him even more lightheaded.</p><p>“Top drawer,” Elias rasps, and Martin basks in the pride of knowing he did that, he made that gorgeous voice so heated, so hungry. Elias moves with him as he sits up, both of them moaning as the movement jostles Martin inside him. With Elias sunk heavily in his lap, he pulls the draw open, snags an elegant, curved vibrator, and shifts them back down the bed. He lies back against the pillows, gets enough space to bring it to where they’re joined, and then flicks it on.</p><p>Elias moans, deep and breathy. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Such a clever boy. You’d better put it on the third setting, though, I do want to last a little longer.” Martin obeys, and Elias settles into his new rhythm, grinding into the vibe on his way down, drawing back as he rears upwards, teasing himself.</p><p>It feels like Elias rides him for years, sweat blooming on his skin and shining in the golden light, until his entire body is gilded. To Martin’s hazy vision, Elias looks like a statue, marble and precious metal and two glinting, burning gemstones for eyes. He catches Martin staring and reaches out to catch one of his nipples, twisting another whine from his mouth. Martin gives it gladly – Elias wants to hear him. Elias <em> wants </em> him.</p><p>“Up a setting, now,” Elias orders at last, his voice hoarse with desperation, and Martin fumbles to do so with slick fingers. When the vibration increases, Elias goes rigid, clenching down on Martin’s cock so hard he sees sparks. Martin keeps the pressure on Elias’ cock, the vibration so intense he can feel it through him.</p><p>Elias snaps his hips up, grinds down so hard it <em> hurts </em> , then convulses. A harsh moan rips out of his throat, and his whole body locks up as he <em> squirts </em>, gushing hot liquid over Martin as he shakes through his orgasm.</p><p>For a moment, Elias holds perfectly still, face twisted in bliss and hands pressing bruises into Martin’s sides. Martin pants with him, staring up at his broken, open face, before he has the presence of mind to turn the vibe off.</p><p>Without the stimulation, Elias sags as if the strings holding him up have been cut, still twitching with aftershocks. Each one sends a wave of pressure over Martin’s cock, and he’s harder than he’s ever been in his life but it barely matters, not when he can watch Elias catch his breath again.</p><p>He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, really, but it’s not for Elias to slowly circle his hips again, shocking a moan from Martin’s parted lips.</p><p>“You didn’t think I was going to leave you hanging, did you?” Elias asks, rusty and achingly tender. “I wouldn’t do that, not when you’ve been such a good, obedient boy for me.”</p><p>He rides Martin slowly now, so slowly it’s almost a tease, one hand braced on his chest while the other caresses his lips. When his thumb once again pushes into Martin’s mouth, Martin can’t help his little whine.</p><p>“Gorgeous,” Elias whispers. “Maybe tomorrow, I’ll use that pretty mouth – I’m afraid you’ve probably broken me for tonight.” He gives a little, shaky laugh. “You’ll excel at that too, I have no doubt. Make me feel so wonderful-“</p><p>And that’s it, Martin’s gone, hips bucking up as Elias grinds down, coming so hard his vision actually greys out. He buries himself as deep as he can in sweet, tight heat, until the rush of pleasure passes, leaving him limp and wiped clean in his wake.</p><p>When Martin sags back into the bed, Elias lifts himself inelegantly off his softening cock. Martin catches sight of a slick shine of white dribbling out of him, mixing with the sheen of wetness covering his groin and thighs, and he’s sure it’s the sexiest thing he’s seen in his life.</p><p>When he’s dismounted, Elias rolls to the side and collapses on his back, his chest heaving. Martin stares at him wide-eyed – <em> he </em> did that, somehow. He made Elias look like this, flushed and sweaty and dishevelled. He curls wearily on his side to stare, so completely fucked out that he physically can’t worry about how weird he’s being.</p><p>A hand flops into his hair, scratching gently through the sweaty curls. “Good boy,” Elias croons tiredly. “My sweet boy.”</p><p>The huge smile that tugs at Martin’s mouth is probably a bit much, but it’s okay. Everything’s okay – he was good, he made Elias happy. He tries to say something, but his brain is too misted with endorphins and exhaustion. When his eyes slip closed, Elias just keeps petting, and Martin finds it so easy to doze.</p><p> </p><p>~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>A gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking him. Martin cracks an eye open, blinking heavily up at Elias’ smiling face. Still half-asleep, he marvels at how much softer Elias looks right now, the severe lines of his face relaxed and his eyes warm in the lamplight.</p><p>“Hello there,” Elias says, moving from shaking to petting him. “Have a nice nap?” Martin nods – Elias’ bed is ridiculously comfy. He could stay there for years.</p><p>“Up, come on.” Elias hustles him upright and off the bed, and Martin lets himself be herded, too languid and sleepy to put up a fight. It feels so nice to be guided, skin on skin with someone he can trust not to let him fall.</p><p>“Where am I going?” he asks, before realising that Elias is guiding him in the direction of his en-suite, and feeling like a bit of an idiot.</p><p>“I don’t know if you noticed,” Elias tells him, “but we made a bit of a mess.”</p><p>“You’re the one who didn’t want to use a condom,” Martin points out, sleepily amazed at his boldness.</p><p>Elias laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to Martin’s ear. “You’re the one who made me squirt.” He gives Martin’s earlobe a little nip and continues hustling him towards the bathroom, while Martin tries to remind his body that he’s too bloody tired to get turned on.</p><p>The light in the bathroom is whiter, a little harsher, and it burns some of the cotton-woolly fog out of Martin’s head. He wraps his arms around himself as the fact that he doesn’t have a stitch on pops back into his awareness.</p><p>When arms slide around his back, he jolts a little, turning to meet Elias’ eyes. “You’re alright, Martin,” he tells him. “Let’s get you clean now, hmm?” All Martin can manage to do is nod again; he doesn’t quite trust himself to speak.</p><p>Elias guides him over to the bath and helps him in, which Martin can’t help being a bit embarrassed by. The tub is massive, easily big enough for the two of them even with Martin’s bulk, and the water is on the edge of too hot, the way Martin likes it. Elias gets in after him, entirely at ease with his own nakedness, and settles on the other side of the tub, facing him. And why wouldn’t he be at ease? He’s gorgeous, slim and strong and powerful, every movement assured and graceful.</p><p>Martin wraps his arms around his knees, wishing dazedly for bubbles. He feels childish for it, but he wants to gather them round himself, hide in their insubstantial depths.</p><p>“Feeling shy again?” Elias asks, and this time Martin’s recovered enough of himself to bristle.</p><p>“Yeah, actually, I’m naked in a bath with my boss. I’m feeling a bit self-conscious, sue me.”</p><p>He regrets the back-talk immediately, of course. Not just because Elias is his <em> boss </em>, but because the man’s been nothing but lovely to him. Really lovely, to a slightly worrying degree. And here Martin is, throwing it back in his face.</p><p>Elias doesn’t get angry though, or even blink. He just nods. “You know, that’s fair. I’m sorry, Martin.” He reaches out and places a hand on Martin’s knee, and the contact… helps.</p><p>Is he dropping? He might be. It feels a bit odd to say he’s dropping when he was the one doing the fucking, but it’s not like he was in control for any of it. Martin gets sub-drop even after the tamest scene, and what he’d just done with Elias had been scarily intense.</p><p>Elias’ hand shifts to get a better grip on his knee, and he brings up the other hand as well. “Do you need anything from me, Martin?” he asks softly. “I’ll give it to you, just say the word.”</p><p>Martin lets himself sink deeper into the water; the tub is big enough that he can get almost his whole body covered. Some of the sick self-consciousness fades, as warmth seeps into his skin.</p><p>“Just… keep touching me? Please?” he asks, biting back the tremor that wants to leech into his voice.</p><p>Elias smiles, and when he opens his arms, Martin shoves himself forward in the water and into Elias. Now that he’s not in a <em> sex now please </em> mindset, touching another naked body is more than a little awkward, but Elias draws him in without a care in the world, encouraging him round until Martin has his back against Elias’ chest and curling strong arms round him.</p><p>He probably is dropping, a bit, because just touching Elias makes him feel less fractious, less shaky. He lets his head fall back against Elias’ shoulder, and Elias tilts his head to the side until it rests on Martin’s.</p><p>“If I tell you how much I’m enjoying this,” Elias says quietly, when Martin is settled, “will you be uncomfortable again?”</p><p>Martin wants to say <em> no </em> , and get more of that wonderful praise. He wants to say <em> yes </em>– because it’d be true, he would be uncomfortable as hell. In the end he shrugs, and tries not to feel like a prick for being so uncommunicative.</p><p>Elias takes it in stride, reaching for a flannel that he soaps up and slips into the water. He runs it over Martin’s shoulders and down his arms, over his chest and belly. Slow sweeps of the soft cloth, carefully avoiding his sore nipples, the vivid hickies scattered all over the place.</p><p>“You really marked me up, huh,” Martin murmurs, lulled a little by the gentle movement of cloth over skin, by Elias’ hands on him.</p><p>A soft laugh above him. “I’d apologise but we both know that’d be a lie. You took them so beautifully.”</p><p>Martin winces slightly at that. “Please,” he whispers. <em> Mercy. </em></p><p>“Of course, darling,” Elias replies, apologetic now. More soft swipes of the flannel across his belly, his hips, around his groin. Elias needs to spend more time there, cleaning his own dried come off Martin’s skin and hair – and don’t think that fact hasn’t occurred to him. In a perfect world, he’d be doing something about that incredibly sexy thought, but Martin is… tired. To his bones. He hasn’t been this exhausted for <em> years </em>, maybe ever.</p><p>Elias doesn’t say anything more, just keeps gently cleaning him. He doesn’t even say anything when he gently cleans off Martin’s cock and Martin <em> jumps </em> from the sudden flare of sensation – though he can feel a smile pressed to his hair.</p><p>“What about you?” Martin asks, when Elias has moved on to his thighs.</p><p>“I had a shower before I woke you,” Elias replies, and Martin shrinks into himself, just a little, aleaden weight in his belly.</p><p>Gentle hands tilt his chin up, guiding him to meet Elias’ gleaming eyes. “What’s wrong, Martin?” he asks, and Martin’s still powerless to lie to him.</p><p>“I think… I think I wanted to clean you up as well,” he stumbles out. “Just… it feels weird that it’s me who gets all the attention.”</p><p>Elias sighs, and Martin would flinch from it, but his gaze is still soft, gentle. It’s not something he’s entirely comfortable with – there’s too much possession there, Elias could really be looking down at a favoured puppy. But it’s not disapproval, at least.</p><p>“Maybe I wanted to look after you, Martin,” he murmurs. “How often do you let people do that, take care of you without taking anything from you in return?”</p><p>“But that’s selfish,” Martin argues. He turns back to the water, watching the light reflecting off the ripples. “I can’t just take from you and not give anything back.” An image of his mother’s face fills his head, twisted in anger when he’d brought a torn shirt to her for help mending it, after he’d prepared her dinner and cleaned the house top to bottom instead of doing his homework. He blinks it away, but the quiet sadness lingers. “That’s not who I want to be. Not ever.”</p><p>Elias tugs him back tighter against his chest, until there’s no cooling water between them. “Consider – you’ve given me plenty. I took my pleasure from you earlier, didn’t I? And now I want to look after you, and make sure I haven’t damaged you, and make you happy. Is that so wrong?”</p><p>Lips press against his forehead, and Martin shuts his eyes against the pressure of tears. He doesn’t mean to say the words, but they slip out anyway – “I don’t need that. I don’t deserve it.”</p><p>More soft kisses, and an even tighter grip on him. Martin swears he can feel Elias’ arms imprint themselves into his skin, he’s being hugged so hard. Perversely, he wants them to leave bruises, vivid reminders that someone cares enough to hold him like this.  </p><p>“Put it this way,” Elias says. “You think my opinion matters more than yours, yes? That I’m more intelligent than you, more capable, more qualified to make decisions? That you’re less qualified and should defer to my knowledge?”</p><p>Martin doesn’t nod, but then it’s not like he really needs to.</p><p>“So,” Elias says, “when I tell you that I want to look after you, that you deserve looking after, and you tell me you don’t – who should you believe, Martin? Yourself, or me?”</p><p>Martin can’t answer. He can’t speak, not through the burning blockage in his throat. Instead he turns his head and burrows into Elias, the dark, warm hollow of his shoulder and neck, and lets the soft hands in his hair soothe away his misery.</p><p>When the heavy ache passes, he feels better, stronger. He can relax back into that exhausted calm and let Elias move his limbs however he wants, stroke over his skin and wash him tenderly clean.</p><p>The whole time, he can feel Elias’ eyes like a static-charged wand, running over his body and setting his hair prickling. What Elias can possibly be seeing, Martin doesn’t have a clue, but he’s done questioning things for tonight. Which is a good thing, because otherwise he’d have to deal with the fact that he’s just slept with the head of his bloody workplace, or something. And that would be awful.</p><p>Elias decides he’s done by the time the bathwater is becoming uncomfortably cool, and he helps Martin out as carefully as if he’s a child. Martin lets him, and doesn’t even flinch when Elias whispers “Good boy, Martin,” when he has both feet out of the bath and is resting back in Elias’ arms.</p><p>He gets towelled down, brisk but gentle, and when Elias moves away to dry himself, Martin reaches for him. “Let me?” he asks, words tasting weird on his tongue.</p><p>Elias gives him a long, steady look, eyes perfectly blank. Then he relaxes and nods, passing the soft towel over.</p><p>Drying Elias is somehow as intimate as fucking him was. Martin finds himself lingering, taking longer than he should. Elias’ body is firm and strong, body heat bleeding through the damp barrier of fabric. He’s probably doing a terrible job, but Elias indulges him, smiles softly at him whenever Martin glances at him to check if he’s still allowed.</p><p>Once they’re both dry, Elias leads him back into the bedroom. Martin kind of wants to protest the hand on his wrist, but he’s not quite feeling strong enough yet – and it <em> is </em> nice. The gentle pressure on his wrist bones, the knowledge that he can’t do anything wrong if he just follows Elias’ pull.</p><p>Head to one side, Elias surveys the wreckage of his bed with a sigh. “We’re going to have to move to a different room, I think,” he says, and then quirks a smile. “It looks like you’ll be in the spare room after all, Martin.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Martin mutters. Elias glances at him in confusion, then sighs deeply and pulls him in for another hug.</p><p>“You’re done nothing wrong,” he croons in Martin’s ear. “The opposite, in fact – you were perfect for me.”</p><p>The praise still feels a little raw, a little unsettling, but Martin finds he still wants to hear it. He makes an executive decision not to puzzle his way through that tonight. In fact, he decides, he’s not going to think at all. Morning Martin can deal with this mess, the poor bastard. He relaxes into Elias’ embrace with a deep sigh.</p><p>“Come on,” Elias says, releasing him. He keeps his hand around Martin’s wrist as he scoops his phone out of his discarded trousers, keeps that link between them all the way down the corridor and into the spare room. He only lets go to turn the light off, once he’s got Martin tucked under the duvet.</p><p>Even for a spare, the bed is ridiculously big. He’s sort of expecting Elias to take the space and spread out, away from Martin, but when he’s gotten Martin laid out to his satisfaction, he pushes right into his personal space and curls around him.</p><p>“You really are very satisfying to hold, like this,” Elias murmurs into the darkness, his voice rough and a little slurred with exhaustion. Martin stares up towards the ceiling, trying and failing to bite back a huge, soft smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>there will probably be a sequel from elias' pov - if ur interested in that feel free to subscribe to the series</p></blockquote></div></div>
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